


Finally Clean

by lovemyway (vesper93)



Series: Stolen Moments [9]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Bittersweet, M/M, Shower Sex, angsty, angsty love, book canon, love making
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27825163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesper93/pseuds/lovemyway
Summary: He was getting ready because tonight was important.
Relationships: Oliver & Elio Perlman, Oliver/Elio Perlman
Series: Stolen Moments [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1196968
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	Finally Clean

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooooo!
> 
> Okay so this was initially supposed to be a bit of fluffy shower sex and instead it turned into... this. Way more bittersweet than I originally intended. But as you know when writing, sometimes you have absolutely zero control over what your characters want to happen at any particular moment. I know that sounds crazy, but if you write, you'll know what I mean :').
> 
> Song for the fic: Liability by Lorde.
> 
> Anyway... hope you like. 
> 
> Love  
> V  
> xxxx
> 
> Random personal note at the end.

There really wasn’t a lot of room in here, but somehow they had managed to make it work. Despite the slightly paltry flow of water, and the fact they had to stand pressed against each other, even when they didn’t want to be (which to be completely fair _wasn’t often_ ); this was still better than the shower back at the villa. Another place to try things out and to explore each other like a cartographer filling in an uncharted map. His map had many places still left unshaded, and he wanted forever to explore its edges. He’d probably have to see it burn before it was finished.

He wasn’t sure if the arrangement at the villa could even really be called a shower, thought Elio sedately as he washed himself carefully whilst sitting in the bath tub, bringing his mind back to the more literal. The shower at home sat resting on the taps when not in use, and one had to pick it up to wash one’s hair, holding it whilst soaping with a free hand. At least here, the showerhead was mounted on the wall above the bath. Oliver was too tall to properly fit under it so he had to bend his knees slightly.

He sat up, his knees showing naked skin above the tepid water. He rubbed at them, scrubbing off some imaginary dirt or mark. Either way it made him feel better. He was getting ready because tonight was important. It was Oliver’s last night before the train took him away in the morning, a railroad to the future that didn’t contain him. He tore that thought up as soon as it crossed his mind; it wasn’t a _last_ anything. It was just a beautiful night, and he wanted to be good enough for the possibilities that it would hold.

‘Are you coming in?’ he called out into the bedroom. The door was open, but he couldn’t see the other occupant of the room, despite knowing that he was there. Sometimes he’d watch him bathe, but tonight wasn’t one of those nights. Maybe he was packing.

This thought was banished when Oliver appeared almost immediately, clearly waiting for his invitation, eager and wanting. Elio pulled the plug out of the plug hole, letting the water to begin to drain so that when of the pair of them stood under the shower the bath wouldn’t overflow like a mind too overfull with competing and battling thoughts. He looked at Oliver to stop himself wandering down that path unlit with streetlamps. This man who had handed him the world, for him to hold just for a moment or two.

He was naked; blissfully, beautifully naked. Elio’s eyes raked up and down his perfection as he too got to his feet, opening his arms to the other man, asking him to join him in body as well as in words. Oliver stepped forward and kissed him, not stepping into the bathtub just yet. Instead the bigger man placed his hands on his slippery form, tracing his fingers up and down his sensitive sides. All it took was a few seconds for Elio’s skin to come alight; awake to the sensations it knew would soon follow. He chased Oliver’s mouth with his own as the man pulled back, a relaxed smirk on his features as he turned the shower on, and stepped in, immediately drenching them both from head to foot. Elio giggled as his hair flattened into his eyes, causing Oliver to gently sweep it to one side, kissing him on the temple as he did so.

Elio looked down at them then, pressed thigh to wet thigh; one matted with hair, the other much lighter, but with a fluff still there. His eyes travelled upwards to belly to belly, one sculpted but with the tiniest bit of extra weight suggesting weeks of indulgent eating and lazing around in small town Italy. The other was skinny, white, with the ribs visible. He knew which one he preferred, and instantly placed his hands-on Oliver’s waist to prove his point, ducking his head to suck a mark on his skin where his collarbone met the centre of his throat. He wanted to mark him. To leave something on his body. He wished such a mark were indelible. To be seen by future lovers and for them to know that he was there _first_ , and know that his mark would always been seen, no matter what they did.

He felt he might lose his breath, not wanting to lose his contact, despite the water rushing down over their bodies, making it difficult to breathe whilst he was bent on his task. Only when he was satisfied did he look up, Oliver’s blue gaze hooded, contemplative. Elio wondered if he had already left before he had stepped in here this evening. No, _no_. He was still here. He was with him, and he _wanted_ him. That much was obvious, he thought with a smirk of his own, as he felt Oliver’s hard cock press insistently against his lower belly. He reached down and stroked him quickly, roughly, almost catching the other man by surprise; causing him to choke out a breath at the feeling.

‘Please,’ Oliver whispered as he let go, ‘Please let me…’

‘What?’ he asked, wanting the other man to say it. He needed to hear it again, _again, again, again, please._

Oliver leaned down and bit his lip in a not-kiss before answering, his breath heavy against his bruised mouth, ‘Let me fuck you.’

 _Fuck me, bruise me, have me, take me._ Do what you will Oliver, he thought.

Instead of saying this out loud he smirked at him before turning around, still pressed together; now naked back to wet chest. He could feel every inch of Oliver; each brush of his hands, his fingers as they explored, felt the gasp on his neck as he realised he’d already prepared.

‘ _Elio…’_ groaned out like a song against his ear, ‘ _Perfect_.’

He smiled, leaning his forehead briefly against the coolness of the tiles, the water rushing over them like that of a cleansing river. Oliver’s hands on his hips were his anchor to the here and now, whilst his cock made his body feel pleasure he’d previously only imagined. His arms stifled his moans as he rested on them, looking for anything to hold onto. He’d pull the showerhead off the wall if he gripped that. Instead his nails dug into his own skin, leaving marks as evidence of this moment.

 _Please please please_ , he thought.

This was just one more to add to the times that Oliver had made love to him this summer, one more time to memorise, then replay, and turn over in his hands like an old heirloom.

But it was also one less. One less time that he’d do it again. Because there was no taking back what had just been done as he felt Oliver’s hips stutter against his, burying deep inside of him as he came. He couldn’t go back and do it again, live forever in a moment of eternal return of losing oneself over and over again. A moment later he was turned back around, Oliver on his knees, swallowing him down to bring him to the edge of his own release, fingers tangled in Oliver’s wet hair as the older man sucked, licked, tasted, touched; making him moan out his joy.

He didn’t know whether the tears on his cheeks were from pleasure or pain; from the fact that this one more or one less. _More more more_ he thought as he cried out, Oliver imbibing his seed like the fountain of youth. _More. More. More._

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually kind of drawn on personal experience, which is why I guess (one of the reasons), CMBYN resonated with me so profoundly.
> 
> I really liked someone once, too much perhaps, and we knew we had to part... long story. But the last time he came over he'd already left. He wasn't there. Despite being with me, he'd already gone. 
> 
> So, yeah.


End file.
